A dear woman I once knew told me that watching me think is not unlike watching starlings rise up from a field, flighting about, circling the skies until they land in the trees. I tend to process my thoughts in the click-click-click of fingers on keys.This is where my thoughts often come to land.
There are dreams which live so deep inside of us that to not allow them room to grow is like killing a piece of self. For me, the desire to write has been as vital for survival as my desire to breathe. While there were those who saw that life growing within me and encouraged it, there were also those who created a great deal of shame around my dreams, leaving me feeling awkward and wrong. And so, both in my failure and the failures of others, that which had once been my greatest delight soon became my biggest shame.
Like the characters in my books, I have spent years in the untangling process. Writing books has been, in many ways, the resurrection of dreams that had long died within me. I have laughed, cried, failed and feared in carrying out those dreams.
I haven’t always known what to do with my creative energies, or how to tell my story in a way that doesn’t hurt others. I have done that wrongly in the past, and hurt people. For that, I am sorry.
Much of what I have learned on my life’s journey, especially in the last six or so years, is that without grace, without second chances and third chances and the freedom to be more than our failures, each of us will wither and die inside.
And so, after years of cowering and trying to repay failures by silence, I have decided to use what skills I have to share what I have learned, what lessons those who have loved me have shared, and to create a space where we can share, together, stories of hope and strength, tears and failures, and, I hope, all have space to grow.